Anathema (The Eating Woods, #1)

by Keri Lake

“Do not put your trust in him. The Goddess of Death will punish.”

“What the seven hells are you?”

He lurched toward me, clamped his hand around my nape, and crushed his lips to mine.

Pangs of humiliation coiled in my stomach and burned in my already heated cheeks. “Did I …. Did I do something wrong?” “I need you to leave. Now.” “Not until you tell me if I did something wrong.” “You did nothing wrong. Now, go.”

“Veni’adj meh, Lunamiszka.” Come for me, my little moon witch

At a cracking sound, he turned to where the mirror on the wall fractured, splitting down the middle–one half showing her lying on the bed, the other showing him at her side, his hands shoved down his trousers.

“Maevyth, wait⁠—” “Rapiuza’mej et rapellah’mej,” I whispered in his ear, as close as our masks would allow,

He shuddered and rolled his shoulders back. When he turned toward me, I glanced at Rykaia, who stood with her fingers pressed to her lips, as though trying to contain a smile. “Have you been drinking?” he asked, the question leaving me to wonder if I’d spoken the wrong words or forgotten them, entirely.

Zevander’s gaze fell on me, and he flicked his fingers, calling me toward him. “Do you know how the scorpion chooses his mate?” Rykaia whispered in my ear. “Promenade à deux. By asking her to dance.”

asking him to take her and essentially ravish her,

“A vein. The Mortasians found a vein. I was sent to confirm and report back.”

“A man by the name of Moros discovered it.”

“I don’t know. I left soon after finding out about the vein. There were … rumors of … mutations.”

“I know … she emerged with Moros.”

“Your sister …. They set her up.”

“The names. There is no Lady Anadara or Sivarekis. They knew Rykaia could read minds.”

“And the daughter of death and decay. Her blood, when turned to stone, will bring forth the truest alchemical transformation. Through her death, we shall live. By her essence, we shall fortify the Umbravale to protect against our enemies. To drive out disease and famine, as is

prophesied by the divine Goddess of Foresight. Together, with the six stones we’ve yet to reclaim, we will not fall prey to the Black Pestilence.”

“Fuck it all, you stubborn bastard. She’s your mate, Zevander!”

“The flammellian from The Hovel. Melantha is the flammellian who hurt me. I wouldn’t doubt she’s been killing the sexsells,” she prattled in a frantic string of words. “She took Maevyth. You have to find Maevyth. Find her!”

“Because I’m a jealous cunt who refuses to entertain thoughts of you lying next to another man. Is that explanation enough?”

“You want the truth?” “Always, yes.” “Your snoring.” “What?” Heat flared in my cheeks. “I don’t …. I don’t snore.” “You do. Was awful that night. Scared me shitless.”

A distant cracking sound, like a fracture, hardly registered

“As I said, I can take everything away from you.” “Even your favorite toy,” Loyce added.

This is so eerily said!!!

“Magic requires your command.” “But I have such … intrusive thoughts. Thoughts I can’t help sometimes.” “They’re thoughts. Not will.”

“You are mine, moon witch. For all eternity and whatever lies beyond it. No soul has ever been more intricately woven into mine than yours.”